Kwan Yin Plays Hooky
by roisaber
Summary: Exasperated by the prospect of spending yet another day hearing the cries of the world, Kwan Yin decides to ditch her responsibilities and take a day off. She visits what's for her an exotic city, though a city that you might know and love.


Kwan Yin yawned, stretched, and scratched her shoulder. The whole "thousand arms" thing was a bit of a misnomer; she had the normal compliment of two, but she was always so busy being everywhere at once that people had a tendency to exaggerate. Plus, she had to do all the work of Kannon and Avalokitesvara as well, not to mention occasionally moonlighting as Tianfei, Aphrodite, and Sophia. Just thinking about all the work she had to do that day made her inwardly groan. She rubbed nuggets of sleep out of her eyes, and wandered over to her MacBook Pro. The calendar had a dozen badge notifications and she clicked on it with a heavy heart.

Today, she was scheduled to prevent the burning of the House of Wisdom in Baghdad, do something about the potato blight in Ireland, and prevent 19 hijackers from taking over three airplanes in the early 21st century. With a sudden surge of elation, she deleted the day's entire entry. Kwan Yin spent all of the day before preventing Comet Elenin from colliding with the Earth, and most of the day before _that_ whispering to Vasili Arkhipov that launching a nuclear torpedo against the USS Randolph was a bad idea, despite its unprovoked attack in international waters. No. Today, humanity would just have to deal with its own problems. Kwan Yin was taking the day off.

It was still early, just after dawn, and most of the other deities in Xi Wangmu's palace on could be divided into two categories. The industrious ones, who were already off doing the business that kept Heaven running like a smoothly oiled machine, and the lazy ones, who were still sleeping. So it was that Kwan Yin had the steaming baths all to herself. She gratefully stripped off her robes and lowered herself naked into the warm, sulfur-smelling water. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the steam.

"Kwan Yin? What are you doing here so late?" a familiar voice asked her.

Kwan Yin didn't bother opening her eyes.

"Hey, Zhongli. I'm not feeling well," she replied with an exaggerated cough. "I thought I'd come to the hot springs and see how I feel."

Zhongli jumped in with an exaggerated splash, and Kwan Yin groaned.

"Not feeling well? I have a cure for that!"

Kwan Yin opened her eyes to see Zhongli waving a jug of wine at her. "Good for anything that ails you!"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you drunk _already_? It's only 7 in the morning."

"I'll tell you a secret," Zhongli whispered conspiratorially. "I'm still drunk from last night!"

Kwan Yin laughed in spite of herself.

"Oh, what the Hell," she said. "Give me a swig from that jug."

Zhongli handed over the full skin, and Kwan Yin took a deep draught without reducing the amount available inside. She felt his eyes resting on her breasts and sighed inwardly. Being a beautiful goddess was torn between the extremes of fun and exasperating. It's not that she _wouldn't_, it wasn't that she _hadn't_; her real objection was _not right now_. But Zhongli wasn't known for his subtlety. She coughed again, trying to congleal some of the steam in her throat for added convincing effect.

"Still not feeling well?" Zhongli was befuddled. "That stuff is from the Jade Emperor's private stash. It's supposed to be able to cure any ailment, whether mortal or divine. I hope you're not the victim of a curse!"

Of all the people to confide in, Zhongli was probably the safest.

"No, I'm just not that into it today."

Zhongli nodded sagely, and his wispy hair nodded in synch on the top of his head.

"You know what I do when I get like that?"

Kwan Yin took another big gulp from the jug of wine, and felt her head pleasantly swim. "What?"

"I go down to the mortal world for a day. See what it is we're all working on, have a bit of fun, remind myself just how good I have it up here in Heaven!"

"I wonder if that's such a good idea," Kwan Yin mused with a smile.

"Of course it is! Zhongli doesn't give bad advice."

"Well…" Kwan Yin thought about it. "Maybe. But not until I'm done with my bath."

Zhongli leered at her. "Unless there's something else you'd like to do first?"

"Not today, Zhongli." She took one more swig and then handed back his still-full wine jug.

Dejected, Zhongli climed out of the hot spring, and his flaccid ding-dong dangled in the breeze. She watched in amusement as the old man stumbled off, and his wrinkled skin hang further down than his ass cheeks. She luxuriated in the hot springs for another few minutes, and let the wine warm her from the inside while the steamy bath warmed her skin. When she finally felt refreshed, she decided to take Zhongli's advice, after all. She stepped out of the bath, dried herself in an instant with a simple mudra, and dropped her gown back down over her body. Kwan Yin yawned again, and then slowly wandered to the Axis Mundi at the center of the palace. A few of her fellow deities seemed surprised to see her, but none would dare criticize She Who Hears the Cries of the World for taking a little rest cure.

"Do you have an authorization?" a masked guard at the Axis Mundi asked her sternly.

"I'm on my own recognizance," Kwan Yin retorted.

The guard shrugged. Getting into an argument with Kwan Yin was above his pay grade.

"Go ahead, milady," he said, lowering his spear.

First, the goddess entered the cloak room of the massive domed teleporter. She picked a random date in the second decade of the 21st century, and, deciding to visit somewhere exotic, she decided on Los Angeles. In spite of her universal appeal she felt most comfortable in medieval China, but wasn't the whole point to get away for the day? Americans in general had little use for goddesses, though Los Angeles' numerous Latinos sometimes revered her in the guise of Mary, Mother of Jesus. Kwan Yin booted up a large, magic mirror that covered one wall of the cloakroom, and started examining women on the streets to see what would be culturally appropriate get-up for the time and place she was heading.

The girls were wearing shorter skirts than she remembered, and the shirts showed more cleavage. She took a few mental notes and then conjured an appropriate outfit with her magical powers. She chose a small black miniskirt, a black and red shirt that tied around the back of her neck with spaghetti straps criss crossing right above her collar bone, and low heeled black boots. She looked at herself in the mirror and was largely pleased. Her Chinese features wouldn't look remotely out of place in the multicultural capital of the California, so she left her glossy black hair and earthy brown eyes alone. She did bump the size of her boobs up a smidge. American girls were raised on ghastly hormones that made their breasts weirdly huge, and while Kwan Yin exercised extreme restraint, she chose to fill out her top a little more than usual. She shifted, feeling a little strange with her skirt hanging just beyond her ass.

"Oh, right," she suddenly realized. "Underwear."

With a quick mudra she created a fire-red thong and pulled it up over herself. The goddess still thought American clothes were rather odd, but she was comfortable enough to return to the main dome and start looking for a place to materialize, using the gigantic mirror on the ceiling to navigate. It was best to remain inconspicuous; though no one would believe a woman appeared out of thin air, it was best not to shock people unduly.

Kwan Yin chose a small, unoccupied room, almost at random. It turned out to be the toilet on a Metrolink train nearing Union Station, and the moment she materialized in the small bathroom, she was immediately hit with the a hideous stench that watered her eyes and made her immediately regret her decision of visiting the human world. It smelled like a homeless man had pissed himself, died, rotten for two weeks, and then regained consciousness for long enough to smoke a marijuana joint. To make matters worse, the reek was topped off with the chemical odor of burning diesel fuel, a smell to which Kwan Yin was poorly accustomed and which she found unspeakably nauseating. The floor was littered with urine and soaking wet strands of toilet paper. Kwan Yin quickly opened the bathroom door, and then had to return to be daintily sick in the filthy toilet. She felt a brief flash of anger, but then remembered her role as a goddess of compassion. Kwan Yin remembered what it was like to wield a penis in her male guise of Avalokitesvara, and realized that it couldn't be easy for men to properly aim their trouser snakes while the train rattled and jostled its way down the track. She took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and then finally exited into the railcar's main cabin.

A few people on the Metrolink glanced over at her, but most went back to their newspapers of video games or simply staring out the window. A couple of the younger men gazed at her longer than was strictly necessary, but when they made it up to her eyes they were embarrassed and turned away. Kwan Yin found their reaction a little befuddling, but everything about the human world was strange to her. She almost fell over when the car hit a particularly uncertain patch of track, and she steadied herself with a handrail until she regained her balance. The diesel fumes were making her feel faintly dizzy.

The Metrolink train was thumping slowly down the tracks, and Kwan Yin winced at the intense aura of human suffering coming from nearby. She looked up to see the source of the trouble, but all she could recognize was a tall building surrounded by concrete walls that looked like it belonged in a war zone rather than a downtown metropolitan district. She couldn't read or write English, but something about the building stank of stale air, stale water, bureaucratic officiousness, and humans locked up in cages like a zoo. The goddess shuddered. The train slowed further, and stopped, and a computerized voice announced their arrival at Union Station. Kwan Yin joined the line of commuters, vacationers, convicts, and rail bums waiting to detrain.

Someone bumped in to her from behind.

"Sorry," the disheveled man mumbled, refusing to meet her gaze.

Kwan Yin didn't speak English, but nevertheless, she could understand the people of Los Angeles perfectly. They would hear her voice as if she were speaking in their own language, though with an odd, unrecognizably foreign accent.

"No worries," she replied, making a mudra of forgiveness.

The man cursed her "demonic Yoga shit" but before she could think of a suitable reply the doors opened and people slowly pushed their way off the train and onto the platform. Kwan Yin took careful steps on the unfamiliar pavement, more used to forest or wood than the hard, hot concrete that met her boots with each step. She was immediately grateful that she chose an airy outfit, because it was hot outside. She couldn't read the signs, so she just followed the bulk of the people through the grandiose train station and out into the heat overlooking downtown Los Angeles. Fascinated by the towering skyscrapers, she started walking down Alameda, trying to find a way into the downtown.

Cars roared by, and their exhaust made the goddess wrinkle her nose in disgust. The city was terrible for walking; the concrete was hard and mercilessly radiated heat back up her skirt. There were no crosswalks, and automobiles roared by uncomfortably near at uncomfortable speeds. She took a deep breath of the thick air and resolved to keep walking. A few cars slowed down, their drivers dazzled by the goddess' beauty and perceptible, though invisible aura. Finally, a bright purple Honda Accord with a fat spoiler and loud exhaust pulled up next to her. Kwan Yin looked inside to see three teenaged Latino boys. She cocked her head curiously.

"Hey, chicka," the driver said with a wicked grin. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

Kwan Yin smiled and shrugged. "Sure, that would be nice."

The three young men weren't expecting this response. They quietly conferred, while Kwan Yin watched them curiously. Apparently, they thought it was some sort of joke, or perhaps candid camera practical joke. Finally, they reached a consensus.

"Okay, sure," the driver said, pretending that he'd expected her to accept his offer the whole time. "Hop in."

Kwan Yin struggled with the door and finally the boy in the backseat had to open it for her. She clambered in gratefully, though the Accord's air conditioning was out of service so it was almost as hot inside the vehicle as out. The boys stared at her, awed by her beauty and stylish disposition. It took the driver half a minute to work up the courage to talk to her after he pulled back into honking traffic.

"What's your name?" he asked, gazing at her through the rear-view mirror.

She answered, giving a pseudonym, "Xiaoli. How do you do?"

The boy still couldn't believe she was talking to him.

"I'm Jose," the car's driver said nervously.

"Daniel," introduced the boy sitting in the seat in front of her.

The nerdy looking kid sitting behind the driver introduced himself with his nickname. He'd almost forgotten his real name at this point.

"Ñoño," he said, awkwardly shaking her hand.

Jose asked, "Are you new to town?"

Kwan Yin/Xiaoli rapidly paged through the boys' minds, looking for a plausible cover story.

"I'm a freelance contractor from Hong Kong," she quickly answered. "I'm in town for a conference, but it ended a day early and my flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning. So I've got a full day to kill."

The nerdy-looking boy next to her said, "Your English is amazing."

"My parents believed that good English skills were the key to a good career," Xiaoli immediately confabulated. "I went to English language schools and I've watched a lot of American television!"

Jose gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"So, where are you headed?" he asked.

"Oh, anywhere!" Xiaoli answered brightly. "I just wanted to do something fun before I have to head back home."

Jose couldn't believe their luck. It was summer vacation, so he didn't have any scholastic commitments, and he'd just gotten a paycheck from his job at Jack in the Box so he had a little money to spend. He and his friends were just out cruising, looking for fun and maybe a little trouble. And here was a beautiful, exotic girl who'd basically fallen from the sky. His palms were sweaty on the steering wheel, and not just from the baking summer heat in the passenger cabin.

Meanwhile, Xiaoli did some idle rifling through the minds of her three new friends. Jose was hardworking and industrious, and though he'd never win a Nobel prize in science, economics, or literature, he still seemed like a good man. He was enjoying a wild streak as a young adult so that he'd have no regrets when he married later; a burgeoning family man. Daniel was book dumb but good with his hands, and his interest in machines would be well served by going to trade school and learning plumbing or electrical work. Ñoño, as his name suggested, was a total geek. He was the only one of the three planning to head to college, and he was working nights to save enough money to help his family with tuition. In all, it seemed like an odd group of friends, but they shared a similar family history and they were always conspiring together on new adventures to take. Like, she supposed, picking a strange foreign woman off the street.

"Have you ever been to Los Angeles before?" Daniel asked.

"Now and again. But I was so busy with work I really didn't have time to see anything," she admitted.

Jose did a sophisticated form of mental algebra, trying to decide how much money he could spare on food and entertainment. He'd have to make a little cash go a long way, and since she said her flight was leaving the next day, he'd have to at least hold out through dinner if there was any chance of holding her attention. That didn't leave enough for anything like theme park tickets, or the zoo. He had an idea.

"Do you like museums?" he asked casually as he merged into particularly sticky traffic.

Xiaoli was amiable. "Sure."

Jose breathed an inward sigh of relief. The Getty was free, except for parking, and it was a sight that was bound to enthrall an out-of-towner. Ñoño did some quick research on his smartphone while Jose struggled to push his way onto an onramp for the 101. Xiaoli stared out of the window, awed by the buildings, and the traffic, and the people. When she was in the human world it was generally as an incorporeal spirit, whispering in peoples' ears or disabling missile guidance systems or doing other small, impersonal jobs that kept the idiotic species from destroying itself. She was hot, and sweat accumulated in her armpits, making her shift uncomfortably. She realized that the short skirt was hiked up more than modesty allowed, and she reached down and struggled to right it, conscious of the stares of the three young men.

"There's a satellite parking lot off Sepulveda," Ñoño suddenly announced. "That one's only five bucks. Save us some money."

Jose cursed under his breath. It was a genuinely helpful suggestion, but he also didn't want to look cheap in front of the beautiful, exotic woman. Traffic on the 101 was doing its usual late morning routine; half the cars were going 40, and the other half were doing 85.

"Holy shit!" Xiaoli suddenly shrieked, steadying herself against the side of the car.

A jacked-up white Escalade with spinning rims almost sideswiped them before noticing the Accord at the last second and jerking back into its own lane. Jose, Daniel, and Ñoño just shrugged it off as another day on the freeways of Los Angeles, but Xiaoli was breathing hard, her system amped on adrenaline. She forgot how intense experiences in a human body could be, and while "dying" wouldn't do her any real harm, it was still hard to swallow so much bodily panic at once. Her breasts rose and fell in her shirt, and she turned away from the window, consigning that view to braver hearts than hers.

"How old are you?" Daniel asked her curiously.

She shrugged, and went for a plausible answer.

"Twenty one," she answered.

"You don't look much older than our age," Ñoño said.

Xiaoli cocked her head. "I moisturize. Is three years a very big difference?"

The three blinked. They assumed it went without saying. They soon reached their exit, and Jose shoved his way into the right lane so they could exit. Soon they were parked and standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the shuttle that would take them to the Getty. Xiaoli yawned, stretched, and cracked her knuckles, enjoying the strange experience of the fickle human body. They kept stealing glances at her, especially her legs and cleavage, and Xiaoli tried to judge how she felt about it. Well, what was the point of coming to Earth at all if she didn't want to have a little fun? The shuttle soon came and hauled them up the mountain to the Getty.

The main exhibit was on Soviet propaganda and the Samizdat, and Xiaoli obtained a Chinese-language audio tour from the information kiosk. The disembodied voice spoke with what seemed like a very odd accent, but it at least helped her understand the meaning of all the exhibits, since she couldn't read either the Russian documents or the English placards explaining them. The three young men let her tour the museum at her own pace, and truth be told, spent as much time looking at the goddess' ass as much as the exhibits themselves. Feeling their attention, she giggled.

"What's it like in Hong Kong?" Daniel asked.

Xiaoli blinked, and thought about how to answer.

"It's… nice," she finally said. "It's always good when I return back up there, but it's nice to get away once in awhile, too."

"Up?" Ñoño inquired with a furrowed brow.

"Oops. Must be my English."

Jose was relieved that the tour of the museum lasted three hours before Xiaoli got bored. The longer they kept her in their company, the more likely that it was they might be able to convince her to invite them back to her room… he dismissed the thought with an internal groan. There was no way an angel like her would be interested in doing anything like that. Just spending time in her company was more than enough.

"What next?" he asked when the three stepped blinking back into the strong afternoon sunlight.

Xiaoli thought about it. "What about food?"

"I could use a bite," Daniel added.

"You want Chinese?" Jose asked.

Xiaoli laughed. "No, thanks! What's the point of going to a foreign country just to eat the same things you get at home? Take me someplace you guys like going."

They took the tram back down the side of the Hollywood Hills, and Xiaoli stared out with her face plastered against the window. The palace of Xi Wangmu was laid out like a broad, sprawling campus, and there were no buildings higher than a few stories. It was nothing like downtown Los Angeles, which was a cluster of skyscrapers surrounded by mile after mile after mile of suburbs. She stared at the Capital Records building, an architectural triumph of the Googie age that brought to mind the raygun futurism of the 1950s. They soon returned to Jose's Accord, and when Xiaoli climbed inside, she winced as the dark fabric burned the exposed back of her thighs.

"Do you like hot dogs?" Jose asked as they fought there way into late afternoon traffic.

"Hot… dogs?"

"Uhm…" Daniel looked helplessly for words to explain.

Xiaoli furrowed her brow. Even paging through the boys' minds didn't help her, much. As best as she could discern, a hot dog was a sausage-like red tube of unidentifiable animal muck, wrapped in bread, and topped with anything from shredded pickles to beans, cheese, and more unidentifiable meat. Still, they seemed to have fond memories of the flavor, so she decided to just go with it. After all, she couldn't eat the Peaches of Immorality every day.

"Sure. Hot dogs sound fine."

"Are you enjoying LA?" Ñoño asked.

Xiaoli nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. My job can be very demanding so it's nice to steal a little time for myself."

"What company do you work for? Are you in the tech industry?" Ñoño went on.

Xiaoli shifted in the hot seat.

"I'm a…" she searched his memory for the right words. "An independent contractor. I've worked for some very big names you'd know, but I probably shouldn't say."

It would be disruptive to admit to the boys that she was actually a goddess.

"Oh," Ñoño said. "I was hoping you'd have advice on getting a tech career."

Xiaoli smiled mysteriously. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble, when the time comes."

She'd make sure of it.

Soon, the Accord rolled up on a bright pink restaurant with a long line out front. Xiaoli couldn't read the signs but if she could she'd have known that the restaurant bore a very obvious name. The four piled out of the car and got in line. It was a very long line.

"Did you hear the new Moby album?" Daniel asked of Jose.

"Nobody wants to talk about Moby," Ñoño interrupted.

Daniel shot back, "It's better than that nerd shit you listen to."

"Hey, be nice in front of our guest," Jose objected. "Xiaoli, what do you listen to?"

The disguised goddess pondered the question. She listened to a wide range of music from prehistoric chants to classical Chinese compositions to modern hip hop and dubstep. It would be pointless to try to discuss Chinese opera with the young men, so she flipped through their minds until she found a band they all enjoyed.

"I quite like Puscifer," she offered.

"So you're into prog rock?" Jose asked.

Xiaoli just smiled mysteriously. "I'm into a lot of things."

"It's hard to imagine that stuff like that is popular in Hong Kong," Daniel said.

"It's Hong Kong, not deepest darkest Africa!" Ñoño objected.

Daniel shook his head. "That's some racist shit."

Xiaoli sighed. Human interpersonal politics could be so tiresome sometimes.

"Boys, boys," she said out loud. "You don't need to try so hard to impress me. I want to take a break and look around, not be the trophy in some kind of testosterone fuelled punching match. Why don't you all just chill out already?"

The three boys looked down at their feet, chastised. Soon, Daniel reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a small sunglasses case.

"Yeah, we should chill out. Do you like weed?" he asked Xiaoli.

"Hey!" Ñoño hissed under his breath. "Put that shit away. Do you want to get hassled by the cops?"

"I got a card," Daniel answered.

"Maybe _you_ do, but if the cops see us passing around a jay they're still going to get in our face about it."

Xiaoli did a quick scrying, and determined that the chances of them getting hassled over the joint were less than 2% based on the configuration of quantum universes around them.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," she said out loud.

A couple people glared, but nobody interfered as they established a miniature smoking circle in the line to Pink's Hot Dog Stand. Xiaoli was used to participating in shamanic sacraments that involved heavy psychedelics, but she soon felt extremely stoned. Whatever marijuana people were growing in California made even the best stuff in ancient India look like ditch weed. It made her feel extremely giggly, and her infectious laughter soon had the entire group going. Ñoño finished the joint and stubbed it out with his shoe.

"What other places have you been?" Daniel asked, trying to pretend he wasn't blazed but given away by the redness in his eyes.

"All over," Xiaoli answered. "Shanghai, Athens, Kinshasa, Tenochtitlan, Ys, Narshe, Atlantis…"

"Atlantis? Now you're just bullshitting us!" Ñoño objected.

Xiaoli was feeling dreamy and unguarded. "No, it's totally true. It's so funny to see your scientists looking at rocks under the ocean or scanning Antarctica with lasers to see if they can find out anything about the lost city. I know what really happened to it."

Even Daniel didn't believe her, but he couldn't resist the bait. "Where is it, then?"

"It's on the Moon, of course. Well not _on_ the Moon, but inside the Moon."

Ñoño shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Shows what you know."

Finally, they made it to the front of the line. The three ordered, one at a time, and then it was Xiaoli's turn. This presented her with some difficulty. She couldn't read any of the words, and she could feel impatience radiating off people nearby in line. She reached up to Jose and whispered in his ear making him flush.

"Sorry, I can't really read or write in English," she explained. "Can you order for me?"

Elated, Jose put in an order for a mega-sized hot dog with all the trimmings. Things continued to be complicated by the need to pay. Xiaoli did a quick mudra, and summoned a five zhu coin from her private stash and offered it to the cashier.  
"Will this do?" Xiaoli asked.

The cashier looked at it dubiously, and Xiaoli didn't even need to read his mind to understand the expression on his face. She tried again, exchanging it for a five tael silver sycee. The cashier continued to look befuddled. Exasperated, she hefted a twenty tael sycee of solid gold that took both hands to lift and plopped it on the counter. Despite being worth well over a hundred thousand dollars, the cashier looked at her like she'd dumped the body of a dead cat in front of him. Jose intervened.

"I got this," he said, handing a few slips of paper to the cashier and getting real copper coins in return.

When no one was looking, Xiaoli secreted the gold sycee back into hyperspace.

"How strange," she murmured aloud. "I thought gold and silver were universal money."

Ñoño was giving her an odd look as they stepped away from the counter.

"Was that really gold? And… where did you put it?"

Xiaoli put her finger over her lips. "A lady never tells."

Ñoño wasn't mollified, but he realized that he was significantly high and might have missed something. The four waited for their food to arrive and chatted about everything from the weather to the latest Dodgers scores. Xiaoli gawked at the strange sausage dish, piled high with chili and cheese. Waiting to take cues on how to eat it from the other three, she eventually picked it up with both hands and started wolfing it down. It did taste good, in a strangely industrial sort of way.

After that, the four cruised the streets harassing passersby and burning gasoline just to burn it. Xiaoli made them stop at an arcade, where she struggled with the steps to a DDR machine and rapidly learned and then stomped the other three in Street Fighter. Finally, she coaxed them into an isolated underpass where her scrying proved would go unnoticed, and relieved Ñoño of his virginity without failing to give Jose and Daniel a memorable experience, also. The less that's said about it the better, but Xiaoli had more than enough holes to amuse all three, to their utter, incredulous astonishment.

Xiaoli finally instructed them to drop her off at the Hotel Wilshire. No one stopped her as she boarded an empty elevator and vanished into thin air. She headed back to her quarters in Xi Wangmu's palace, after having spent a satisfying day of hooky on strange planet Earth.

[Author:] I don't actually like this one that much. It's composed fine, it just seems like nothing happened the entire time and I didn't have enough space to characterize the… well, characters. You can see where I got bored towards the end but since I wrote that much I figured I'd post it anyway and hope that someone gets some enjoyment from it.


End file.
